God forbid…
I’m in danger of losing my ghetto pass because I apparently forgot that this month was Black History Month. But my argument, should the ghetto commission ever come looking for me, is that ghetto folks don’t observe the month anyway because to do so is actually quite unghetto.
God forbid thugs be unthuggish.
Today at work, an observance of the month was conducted. It went according to the program, but to my surprise, it left me rather conflicted…
The staff here is predominantly white and whenever that’s the case in a setting where Black folks are being celebrated, I’m always over-critical of us. I find myself watching a celebration of my history through the eyes of those in the majority. I do so in order to see how our “advertising” goes over…. to see if the message gets through or if it’s “Here go the Negros with that ‘we shall overcome’ bullshyt…
…to see if I’ll be embarrassed by how our message is conveyed.
The program began with opening remarks and a reading of a formal message from the head honcho back in DC. I found myself thinking about the reading and speaking ability of the people designated to speak in order to assess if they were “Ebonical.” LOL
Because what do we worry about when Black folks speak in front of a non-Black audience? Pronunciation and enunciation!
*some of ya’ll can’t even get THOSE words right! LOL*
The last thing we want is someone up in front of other folks sounding like Jumjeesha from around the way or TeeTee’s cousin Junebug!
The speakers did ok, but I cringed at every “hissry” instead of “history”….. at every “wit” instead of “with”…. at every “dat” instead of “that”…. and at every phrase that Black folks overuse like “for the simple fact dat…” or “what had happened was…”
I’m used to this, but I felt uncomfortable. But there the presenters stood, proud and doing their best.
God forbid the presenters be unpresentable.
Next, a tribute to Carl Brashear was shown — which was basically one of the extra features on the Men of Honor DVD. During the course of the clip, the word “nigger” was shown and old pictures of black boys cooking and cleaning for white folks popped up. I know Brashear’s story up and down, but I started wondering if maybe the clip was too long…. if maybe the ugliness of the era was presented too boldly… if maybe the theme being hammered on was too repetitive, enough to border on irritating.
And plus, ya’ll know how Black folks get when we start watching things from the past. LOL What happens when we watch Rosewood, A Time To Kill, Birth of A Nation, or the old clips of the dogs and fire hoses knocking coloreds off their feet in the 60’s???? We get MAD.AS.HELL. !! I’ve known a few folks who won’t watch such things if they have to go to work the next day, because they’re liable to curse some white folks out! LOL
I’m used to this, but I felt uncomfortable. But there the viewing stood, worthy of our attention.
God forbid the viewing be unviewable.
Next up was a solo to be sung by one of the Black women here. Oh Lawd!! I already KNEW how this was going down. I know how Black folks who’ve been told they can “sang” act when they’re “performing!” But in this case, I was wrong. She couldn’t even begin to sing the song. She was crying from the tribute to Brashear that we’d just seen. And I KNEW this Black folk tendency, too. We are an emotional people. And she walked up to the front of the room and cried before one of the bruthas in the room went up and got her and walked her back to her place. Lawd Lawd Lawd!! Just like at Black funerals!! You always get that one person who is crying at the front of the room and never wants to be sat down… they’ll do so when they’re good and ready! LOL She eventually got the song out, complete with all the R&B riffs and vibrato, just like you know we sing.
I’m used to this, but I felt uncomfortable. And there the singer stood, sing the hell out that song with tears on her cheeks.
God forbid the song be unsingable.
The guest speaker rolled up to the microphone and I bowed my head. You put a microphone in front of a Black man, and one of two things happen: he either sings or he preaches! To my surprise, this man did neither. But he did casually stroll down that beaten path that I knew he would.
“When I was young Black folks couldn’t do this; Black folks couldn’t do that.”
“I had to overcome oppression.”
“I was the first in my family to go to college.”
“My daddy quit school in the 4th grade.”
I’ve heard variants of this story a million times. But all basically say, “Woe was fuggin me, but I made it and so can you.” It’s a strikingly Republican theme for a people who are generically staunch Democrats.
It was one of those “‘Memba when…” speeches that Black folks LOVE to give.
I’m used to this, but I felt uncomfortable. But there the speaker stood, showing his inner strength.
God forbid the speaker be unspeakable.
The ceremony came to an end and the high-ranking white folks applauded, gave the obligatory thank-yous, and then invited everyone to partake of the “Traditional African-American Luncheon.” I prayed and prayed to myself that fried chicken wasn’t on the menu. When the food was rolled in, there was the mac’n'cheese, the collards, the potato salad, the sweet potato pie, the banana pudding, and….
….fried.fukkin.chicken. LOL Which, by the way, was the ONLY meat served, unless you count the smoked hamhock in the greens. Lawd, we are so dayum predictable.
I’m used to this, but I felt uncomfortable. But there the food stood, lookin’ good as hell.
God forbid the chicken be uneatable! LOL
The program concluded and was considered a major success. I sat there, licking the hot sauce off my fingers, wondering why I felt uncomfortable at every turn of the ceremony. I wanted the speakers to speak well (not “speak good”) to disprove the thinking that Black folks can’t speak and pronounce proper English. I wanted the singer to belt out a performance without all the riffs and shyt associated with Soul music to show that we can get the song out without overdoing it. I wanted the speaker to be able to get his point out without hashing up all the stuff he had to overcome lest it boil up some good ol’ white guilt — “Why you bringin’ up old shyt??!” I wanted the food to be representative, but not stereotypical, to show that fried chicken is NOT the national Black cuisine of choice.
I realized that I wasn’t bothered by the way the presenters, the songstress, the DVD, the speaker and the food stood; I just hope those people and things that stood were understood.
I also realized that I was uncomfortable with them providing so much insight into the Black experience. That’s ours. We own it. And while I’m all about promoting understanding of various cultures, I’m also for keeping some things for ourselves.
The reality is that the presenters were presentable. The song was able to be sung. The speaker was spoken highly of. The food was eatable. And the viewing was quite viewable. And I’m comfortable with that.
And God forbid the comfortable be uncomfortable.
